This Makeup Transformation Is WILD — But Don't You Dare Call It "Drag"

By Fran Tirado

January 11, 2018

When Drag Race called, Ryan Burke declined, and told them they should do their research.

Makeup artist Ryan Burke grew up in the countryside of Virginia, in a tiny little cow town that had one stop light. Because he wasn’t allowed to watch TV or use the computer, Ryan spent all his time playing in the trees and fields, surrounded by nature, foliage, plants, and flowers; it was a very Fern Gully kind of childhood.

Today, he sits in Condé Nast’s studios in front of a large vanity mirror, sticking tiny succulent-leaf-shaped appliques to his face in a perfectly organic form. This is for one of his iconic and avant garde makeup looks, which take an average of six hours (“usually more”). Nature is still a part of his life, but in a very different context.

These days, Ryan is hosting massive queer parties internationally, booking jobs as a look queen and working as an ambassador for the legend and mother herself, Pat McGrath. Working with nightlife royalty like Susanne Bartsch and Amanda Lepore for renowned events in the industry such as On Top at The Standard Hotel in New York or the legendary World Cup of nightlife — the Life Ball in Vienna — Ryan still only ever pulls from his roots, so to speak.

“I grew up with nature. Not with MTV, not with pop cultural references,” Ryan says, having used tweezers to stick teeny tiny pearls in a vine-like shape on his cheeks (after several layers of foundation, color, eyes, and a series of other steps I lost count of). “So for me, this is my reference.” He gestures to his headpiece, which is made of small green berries and a species of plant he doesn’t remember the name of.

Many of his materials for his face or headpieces are organic, sourced from flower markets or plant stores. The shapes and forms are typically natural and curvy, referencing the shapes of leaves or flowers as seen in nature. His headpiece today is on the modest side, but his other looks can tower feet above his head, which is perhaps a reason Ryan demonstrates such great posture while we speak. Ryan has said that where many of his headpieces are made for one-night-use only, he also has a storage unit filled with his larger headpieces, and I think to myself how fabulous it would be to have a night in playing dress-up in that storage unit.

Many people have tried to label Ryan as "drag queen" or a "club kid," but Ryan has never really identified with either of those categories. When he first started out in nightlife, he had moved to Los Angeles and was encouraged by his friends who also did drag. When Ryan tried quintessential drag queen makeup, he claims he “looked awful.” He remembers thinking to himself, “‘This isn't how I'm comfortable. I want to do something with makeup, but this isn't really it.’” Ryan says laughing.

Terms like "drag queen" or "club kid" are a problem for Ryan, primarily on accounts of gender performance. To be a drag queen asserts female performativity, he says, which is not really his game. Despite the fact that the word "drag" is nowhere to be found on his Instagram, he is often fielding questions on behalf of the drag community, and was even solicited by casting agents for a season of RuPaul’s Drag Race. He declined, telling them kindly that they should do their research.

“Gender,” he says with his low, austere voice that always gives off aristocratic vibes, “is not at the forefront of my mind in creating anything. Some looks end up being more female, some end up being more male. I don't really care… I would say most of the time I fall somewhere in between.”

“I think that gender is something that other people focus on as a way of labeling people so they can understand them. But, if you don't need that, it's really not important,” Ryan says, rolling his eyes.

Disrupting gender norms isn’t so much a goal of Ryan’s as it is just a natural outcome of the work he does by being who he is. When asked about gender performance within his looks, he didn’t suggest any kind of vocabulary, like "genderqueer," "genderfluid," "gender-fuck," or "nonbinary." His identity, he says, is just being himself.

“Beauty,” he defines, “is people being themselves, showing their individuality, whatever makes them feel, whatever makes them most real.” And for him, nightlife was the perfect outlet for him to start cultivating a space for that beauty when he started doing this seven years ago.

“I think [nightlife is] a place of empowerment. It really made me feel good about myself. Finally, really feel good about myself, gaining confidence, being more social, more outspoken, more control of my life,” Ryan says when asked about why nightlife is important to marginalized communities. “Growing up in Virginia, there wasn't a huge variety of people, there weren't really any references for me, for gay people, or any kind of anything else.”

In the studio during his long makeup process, Ryan was relatively quiet, but “introverted” is hardly a word you would use to describe him, given the fierceness that sat before you. But his shyness bubbled up when the lights went up and the camera rolled for the interview, which came as a surprise to me.

“I'm somebody who is prone to anxiety,” Ryan says. He explains that as a natural introvert, fans or party-goers coming up to ask for a photo can be a lot for him to take in. Being a part of nightlife gave him the greater confidence to feel powerful and amped up in social situations, he says, sitting up straight again with his streams of pearls gleaming in the lights.

When asked about a piece of advice he would give to an aspiring club kid or makeup artist, Ryan didn’t skip a beat: “Try not to pay too much attention to what everybody else is doing,” he says. “The way you play with makeup, whether it's drag or not, should still be about you and your features, and what works best for you. Not, ‘I want to look like this drag queen. I want to look like this club kid.’ Play with it on your own terms.”

Photo by Ryan Burke

Fran Tirado is a writer, editor, and community-maker for all things queer. He is the co-host of the Food 4 Thot podcast, the Executive Editor of Hello Mr., and co-founder of Communion, a queer artist collective.